


Waltz of Despair

by LilRedFox



Category: Original Work
Genre: Agender, Childhood, Existentialism, Gen, Genderqueer, Misuse of the word mourning, Mourning, Nonbinary, Nostalgia, Short, They/Them, friends - Freeform, im just sad, it/its, it/itself, lonely, mellow, not a person tho, somber, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilRedFox/pseuds/LilRedFox
Summary: A drabble of sorts
Kudos: 1





	Waltz of Despair

**Author's Note:**

> title from a song by Andrew Applepie and Bjurman

* * *

It is dressed in black; a skirt to mid-thigh, one inch platforms laced above the ankle with socks just below the knee, a lightly frayed cape adorns its shoulders-kissing its forearms. The figure sits on the back of the bench, feet where one would usually be sitting. Three black lines or smudges travel diagonaly from its left eyebrow to below the right of its mouth. There's no doubting it covered three fingers in dark makeup then calmly dragged them accross its face. Gold crescent earring catch in the light. It appears to be deep in thought with itself, eyebrows furrowed. Almost inaudible is music echoing from headphones forgotten around its neck. 

Two ladies, hand-in-hand, approach the person whispering something to it. Something important, maybe, judging by their deemener. It tilted its head, wordlessly lifting a gloved hand-fingerless- palm flat out. One grabbed its hand nudging until it jumped off the bench. Skirt puffing up to show off black shorts, possibly attached. They walked, holding hands as they walked in a line. Scarcely a minute passed before it dropped to the ground rolling a few times dramatically.

Although, it may have rolled for eternety had it not rolled itself onto the boots of a huge person-barbarian class huge. Buff must've knew the smaller person because they sighed,

"I know life is hard and corporeal reality is overrated," they pulled its limp form off the ground, "but you have limbs and you must use them as such"

It was now being held bridal style, only it wasn't blushing. It kicked out its legs, face expressionless with arms crossed. One of the ladies pat its hair, smiling lightheartedly.

"Oh woe is youuuu. What. are. _you_ mourning?" she said in a faux wise voice. It found its feet on the ground, hand adjusting its cape before finding a place with Buff's hand limply rocking back and forth. Smirking,

"I am mourning my dream," a moderatly deep voice spoke softly, "You see it was rudely interrupted by an endless bell-my alarm- and it was so so soooo terribly good."

It sat itself on the stoned ground, legs stretched out with arms back-hands touching dirt and grass. One of the girls sat criss cross but the other two remained standing for a bit longer. Silence passed for a beat or two.

"Well? Tell us then" the crickets had begun to chirp but no stars were visible

"Did you know onions give you really vivid dreams? Or maybe rice does that. Last night I had both and whenever I do I have really vivid dre-"

"Get on with iiiiit!" The seated lady bounced with impatient interest. It stuck out its tongue

"I. Am. Anyways. We were- not you lot- we were riding on the bus in third person. That part doesn't matter but its important to me that you know. Also no one talks or makes a sound. Think silent movies only those dialogue/note card thingies are like innate knowledge withing you. You just know." Slow nods follow

"Aaand that's bout it." It looked up at the dimmed sky

"That's....it?

"ALL YOU SAID BOUT THE DREAM WAS 'we were on a bus'"

"It's all I remember, the rest is two vague for words"

"What was the point of the rest of it then?"

"I said it didn't matter but its important to me that you know." It layed back arms supporting its head, half its body on stone the upper half on grass. 

"Why..." a whine

"for future reference of course"

"Ah, yes, of course" three voiced deadpaned. It smiled a bit.

"So, what're you really mourning? Has to be more than-," they gestured their hand weakly. 

"Uh," eyes briefly connected before returning to the sky, " There is a lot to mourn. Currently, I am mourning a feeling. One of safety and nostalgia. The feeling when I think of swimming in my old neighborhood pool with friends. I'm mourning a time that will never come again, ya know?"

"Yeah... When I was younger my friends would always knock on my door, ask to hang out and all that. Used to get annoyed when they knocked so much. Mom said it was mean of me to say no as often as I did. But now no one ever asks. No knocks, no calls, no texts. 'cept for my girlfriend but shes obliged to. Wish someone would knock again...miss those times."

"Excactly...I wish someone would knock too"


End file.
